An intrepid soul out there in the netherealms of the internet came looking for answers. Deep, philosophical answers. Namely, this soul wanted to know what was more dope ass for vaginal or anal penetration: the PlayStation Move, or a dildo. When I saw that question sitting unanswered in my Search Engine terms, I was flabbergasted. Why hadn’t I, fan of both dildos and anal play, considered this question for the ages.

I’m going to be honest, I don’t own a PlayStation Move or a dildo. Missing both of them to the detriment of my mortal life. So everything is pure speculation. I don’t know which I’ll own first, or if I’ll ever muster up the bravery to stick the Move into my butt (probably not, I’m scared of the little orb popping off), but should I buy either, I’ll update this space.

Keep Reading »

Oh shit! Fresh in time for the holiday season, where we glue bibles to our hearts and proclaim the coming of our Lord, NASA may be about to throw a curve ball into our collective balls. Maybe! It’s always maybe, isn’t it? Fuck me, I know. NASA is gathering an impressive collection of folks to speak at a press conference on Thursday. Who do you ask? Why, none other than an oceanographer, a biologist, and an ecologist! Wait, that doesn’t mean anything to you? Yeah, me neither.

io9 explains:

Blogger Jason Kottke did some inspired sleuthing regarding what Thursday’s press conference might be about. He discovered the expertises of the various people involved include the interaction of geology and life on alien planets (specifically Mars), photosynthesis using arsenic, Saturn’s moon Titan as an early Earth environment, and the chemistry of life, including in places without carbon, water, or oxygen.

Taking that all together and combined with the current blitz of news from NASA’s Cassini probe around Saturn, Kottke guesses the announcement might have something to do with the discovery of arsenic on Titan and, quite possibly, some primitive bacterial form of life using it for photosynthesis.

Well, shit. I thought they were about to inform us of the existence of a species of nine-foot tall blond women with breasts unbothered by gravity, who only want nothing more than to procreate with us. All of us. And give us eternal life. But seriously though, this was be fun as fuck. Some incontrovertible proof of life afar? Even if it’s just some bacteria hanging out? Hey man, we came from fuggin’ muck. This would be dope.

Time to get those Bible Editors out, and talk about the time that God sneezed on Titan!

Sometimes I watch movies without Nic Cage in them. They’re usually really bad. I refuse to suffer alone. Welcome to Omega Sinema.

The Secret of Magic Island is a 1956 kiddie matinee movie from France with a cast made up entirely of animals. And it’s awesome. I don’t need a plot in order to enjoy watching a dog tend bar and a fox wash a rooster, but there is one. A “villainous space-age” monkey steals a good fairy’s magic wand that bestows on him power over the elements. Two brave ducklings travel via hot-air balloon to the monkey’s island to end his reign of elemental terror. I think. See, there is no known English-language print of the movie. The bootleg I watched was in Swedish. It honestly could have been in German (I hate German) and I still would have watched it. It’s the most adorable one hour of anything ever. It’s cutesploitation!

The first 10 minutes consists of a duck driving around a village and delivering mail. The first thing he does? Get drunk at Cafe Billiards! The proprietor of the cafe is the boxer puppy in the above picture. He’s just lamping behind the bar, reading the newspaper, and drinking lager with a duck. This movie rules already! The duck finishes then drives past a house filled with bunnies, then an inventor dog, and then a sawmill run by a pig. It is a fucking paradise.

Then he drops by the home of a kitten playing a church organ…I could just keep going on like this – listing the incredible marvels that await you on Magic Island. But instead I’m going to suggest you hunt down a torrent for yourself. You won’t regret it. Next time you fight with your girlfriend, just put on Magic Island. Next time the results come back positive, put on Magic Island.

It’s a balm for your heart.

Come one, come all. My name is Caffeine Powered. I am a slave to the various fixtures of modern civilization. Certain chemicals, namely trimethylxanthine. I have my infofeeds jacked into my skull. If not physically yet, they are essentially there. I like paper-based products that feature images and words. A lot. In fact, they may be my favorite medium. Spandex, speculations on the gravity of possessing great powers, marveling at the universe, narrative structures out the ass. They’re all here, in comic books.

In fact, I love them so much that I (keyboard) pen a weekly column. In this column, I give you the run down on the comic books that I plan on buying. But!, but there’s a tweak of the column’s nipple this week. I’m not giving you an entire rundown. I gotta keep this shit fresh for myself. If I don’t, laziness sets in. The mind numbs. The voices, they no longer speak to me. This week, I’m pruning the entire list to the three comic books I absolutely have to buy. You will note, readers the following: my taste is poor. This is not indicative of the most important comic books of the week, nor the best ones.

It is up to you to hit the comments box if you’re so inclined, with the three comic books you’d recommend. Do it. I dare you.

—-

Baltimore: The Plague Ships #5
The tale of Lord Baltimore wraps up this week, and I’ll be sad to see it go. Mike Mignola, Chris Golden, and Ben Stenbeck have teamed up to give us fools a tight, light romp through a universe where World War I was interrupted by vampires and zombies. Yeah, I suppose that makes regular war’s horror seem mild at most, right? This fifth issue is the final, and I’m going to miss my monthly romp through the darkness with ole Peg Leg Baltimore and his busty female companion.

As I’ve blathered about previously in this column, there’s something to the simplicity of the storyline. There’s more than enough familiar tropes to crack open if you’re willing. Baltimore is a man plagued by a deep guilt at hurting a loved one, and sets about an errant quest to do the impossible – make it right. You can get into all the complexities of one’s desire to cleanse themselves of past sins. But if you’re like me? If you’re like me, you just want to see a guy stab vampires and wield a sweet ass bayonet. It works on a simple level. Kick up your feet after a long ass day and decompress to this comic.

If you like decompressing to rot and blood and pain and plague.

Like me.

—-

Vertigo Resurrected: Winter’s Edge #1
So what if DC killed off the Wildstorm universe and folded stalwart Vertigo characters like Swamp Thing and Death back into their primary universe? They are not entirely without their dope maneuvers. On the top of the list of good ideas? DC’s decision to launch Vertigo Resurrected. It’s a line of one-shots that is driven at giving new readers the ability to indulge in classic, rare, or unpublished tales but a collection of heavy, heavy talent. They kicked things of in Vertigo Resurrected #1

Winter’s Edge brings tales from Gaiman, Ennis, and Brian K. Vaughn. If that isn’t enough to sell you, the artwork is being provided by Dave Gibbons, Sean Phillips, and Paul fucking Pope. It seems impossible for me to pass on. I only got three titles this week? This has got to be one of them. A collection of works by a bevy of my favorite talents in the industry? Sold. Sold, sold, sold.

Keep Reading »

You know, lately I’ve been pretty down on Mark Millar. As one of my longtime favorite writers, I hold the dude to a certain set of standards. Perhaps unfairly.   Recently the dude hasn’t come anywhere near these standards. In place of the dude I used to love has come a plethora of sensationalist slop, and hardcore hyping of his own wares. Maybe the dude is spread so thin, on so many projects, that it makes sense that he’s cranking out scripts while he’s cranking out craps on the toilet. Pure speculation on my part.

But say what I will, there’s no denying that the dude loves comic books. And so with that in mind, I have to get behind him and be stoked at his announcement of the Kapow! Comic-Con in London. Now, I don’t live in the Old World. Firmly entrenched in the Newest of Englands. But the idea of taking the glitz and glamor of San Diego Comic-Con and stapling it into the heart of a different continent? Awesome. It’s about time you guys got some love over there. The shit is going down at the London Business Design Centre from April 9-10 in 2011. Oh, Centre! We really are in England!

Comics Alliance Drops Some Deets:

Name-checked in the video announcement — which also includes filmed endorsements from Dave Gibbons, Frank Quitely and Leinil Francis Yu — as attendees are Andy Diggle, Jock, Steve Dillon, Duncan Fregredo, Kevin O’Niel, Adi Granov, Pat Mills, Paul Cornell, David Hine, Brendan McCarthy, Simon Furman, John Romita, Jr., David Lloyd, Olivier Coipel, Kieron Gillen, Bryan Hitch, John McCrea, among others. Representatives from the film industry are to be announced February 14.

Millar, a master of the hard sell, made a point of saying that Kapow! is ideally scheduled to take advantage of 2011 and 2012’s motion picture lineups, which are heavy with comic book and genre movies including Thor, The Avengers, The Dark Knight Rises, Dredd, a Star Trek sequel and a Spider-Man reboot. The convention will be held in April, giving promoters a chance to show their wares to a European audience about two months before Comic-Con in San Diego.

It’s exciting! I don’t know why, but I’m excited. I won’t get anywhere near it. Just the idea of spreading the virulent comic book convention strain to another continent! All run in horror as all of us comic book nerds come out of the wood work, spreading our dorkery and esoteric references!

Well done, Mr. Mark Millar.

Hit the jump for the announcement video.

Keep Reading »

Those two fiendish goblins Boredom and Apathy are running amok, hoping to infiltrate the brain-bone of any unsuspecting humanoid. In the current system, the one that drags us down and demands we work far too long for far too little of a reward, they are highly successful. After all, Bordeom and Apathy sit outside of offices and follow workers home, striking just as TV-dinners are microwaved. But there is a refuge, a small oasis in the desert of the modern condition. And you know what?

You’ve arrived.

Welcome, my babies, to the Monday Morning Commute. This is the place where we share our ideas about the upcoming week. Here, we stave off malaise and depression and lack of enthusiasm! Join me!

–-

Mourning / Irvin Kershner

Irvin Kerschner is dead. You know what that means, don’t you? That’s right, the last director to helm an amazing Star Wars flick is no longer a passenger on Spaceship Earth. The Empire Strikes Back isn’t just a credible sequel or a fantastic piece of science fiction, it’s one of the most affective stories I’ve ever experienced.

What makes the movie magical isn’t the mind-blowing special effects or the incredible battles – although they are appreciated – it’s the abundance of relatable elements of humanity. Friends are torn apart. Lovers seek passionate infernos, only to have complications extinguish the embers. An individual pushes himself to the limits of his capabilities, only to undermine his progress by leaving early. Hell, there’s even a suave black dude with a cape.

I have no doubt in my mind that without Irvin Kershner, The Empire Strikes Back would not be the masterpiece we know it as today. Hopefully he’s chilling in Heaven blue-ghost style, chatting it up with Richard Marquand. Hell, maybe they’ll even take it upon themselves to haunt Lucas on Christmas Eve, showing him the error of his ways.

Keep Reading »

[Photo: Ripten.]

Billy Mitchell is the ultimate gaming villain. He’s got a sick ass mullet, a sick ass beard, sick ass hot sauce, and now an homage in recently released Donkey Kong Country Returns. Sure, he doesn’t have the world record anymore in the original Donkey Kong. But with props, a sick mullet, and the likes, who gives a fuck.

Probably him.

But still, his amazing USA tie can be found in the game. Got the game? Keep an eye out in the monkey ruins in World 3-2, and you can see a serious daps to the baddest motherfucker in the gamin’ world.

If only they could have worked in his mullet of glory.

Look at the stars and stripes on Billy’s tie, and look at the stars and stripes on the the monkey ruins in world 3-2 of Donkey Kong Country Returns.

A thousand years ago, when this season was a bore, I couldn’t have imagined enjoying the season as much as I am. But none the less, episode upon episode continues to build upon the rocket doomship that Dexter and Lumen seem to be strapped onto. Unbeknown to them, the spilling of the Jordan Chase gang’s barrel loot has kicked off a cascading set of events that are building towards either the most plucky escape or their doom. I think it’s safe to bet on escape. But fucking how?

The unveil behind the creation of the Boyd Fowler posse popped off last night, and it was nothing short of satisfying. Nothing like some gang rape at summer camp to truly cement these dudes in the echelons of monsters. The creepiest part? Jordan not partaking in the ritual. Instead, the son of a bitch guides the rapes and murders, imploring his little lackeys to seize their primal desire. The dude probably goes home and burps his dong into a bucket. It is voluminous. Creeper creeping in the background, orchestrating everything.

What does this say about his drives, though? For someone who tells everyone else to go about taking what they believe is theirs, why doesn’t he actually partake in the ritual? Overlord of the Rape Gang?

Keep Reading »

And these sneakers are super-swank-masturbation, no? Good friend of mine, and newly minted contributor, Patrick brought these bad boys to my attention. I think he enjoys showing me sneakers that I couldn’t even fit my big toe into. You son of a bitch, Patrick!

Hypebeast breaks down these studs:

Inspired by the DeLorean DMC-12, Nike 6.0 Introduces the Limited-Edition DeLorean Nike Dunk, a Fusion of Innovation and Style. Influenced by the DMC-12′s aerodynamic design and trademark characteristics, Nike reinterpreted the car’s sleek stainless steel exterior into a matte silver, no-sew constructed upper while also taking cues from the gull-wing doors on the bottom eyestay. The shoe’s outsole references the Delorean’s tail lights and the DMC-12′s rear window shades reappear as graphic lines on the heel replacing the traditional stitches. Meanwhile, the Belfast stamp on the tongue is a nod to the Irish factory that originally produced the vehicle.

Sexiness. Hit the jump for a gallery of these time-traveling sex pieces.

Keep Reading »

Anyone who insists that the Christmas season is all about Jesus Christ and his magical mystery tour is going to need to sit out of this one. You see, it’s been stolen! By secularists, agnostics like myself, and apparently awesome witches like Alan Moore. You may know Moore as the genius behind Watchmen, V for Vendetta, Swamp Thing and a myriad of miscellany too long to type.

Alan Moore is also an anarchist, and witch. But that isn’t stopping him from seizing the Christmas spirit. And casting a spell of totally fucking awesome giving.

Comics Alliance:

Alan Moore has made news by making a generous Christmastime donation to the needy in his hometown of Northampton, England. The co-creator of such memorable graphic novels as Watchmen and The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen will make a gift of 300 Christmas baskets (valued at £3,000) in December.

Mince pies, coffee, sugar, puddings and canned food will be among the items contained in Moore’s gift baskets, according to the Northampton Chronicle. The package will be made of re-usable cloth bags provided by Northampton’s own Co-op supermarket.

Fucking awesome. Take that! Alan Moore is a perfect candidate for Santa Claus. He has an amazing beard. He has obviously magical powers. What does he have to say about his obvious position as the real-life Santa Claus?

“This particular issue is dear to my heart as it’s the area I grew up in and it is one of the most deprived areas in the whole country,” said Moore. “Those people who are living in sheltered housing and those going to the Salvation Army, who often don’t have homes, are living in very difficult circumstances and I think that any sign that they have been remembered and not forgotten is going to mean something to them.”

Alan Moore is my kind of Santa. I’ve always wanted a Santa that penned creepy Lovecraftian gangbangs with mythical creatures like he did in Neocomicon #2. But more than that, Moore is my sort of dude. Despite not being one with the Jesus Guy, he’s leveraging the spirit of the season to do something solid for people in need. So next time someone gives me shit for being in the spirit of Christmas, or rocking a tree and having a giving attitude despite being an agnostic, I’m sending them in Uncle Alan’s direction.

He’ll done straighten it out.